CHAPTER EIGHT : FALLING BEHIND
610 Words
As the weeks passed, everyone expected Kemi to gradually return to normal.
Unfortunately, grief didn't work that way.
Some days were manageable.
Others felt impossible.
There were mornings when she woke up feeling determined to focus on school.
Then a memory would appear out of nowhere and ruin everything.
A song.
A photograph.
A joke.
A classroom corner.
Anything could remind her of Derinsola.
And whenever it happened, concentrating became difficult.
---
One afternoon, the SS3 students received the results of a continuous assessment test.
Normally, Kemi looked forward to result days.
She had always been among the best students in her class.
This time was different.
As the papers were distributed, she noticed several disappointed expressions around the room.
Then her own paper landed on her desk.
Her eyes immediately found the score.
For a moment, she simply stared at it.
The mark wasn't terrible.
But it wasn't good either.
Certainly not by her standards.
Kemi frowned.
She knew she could have done better.
Much better.
The problem was that she hadn't really been present while preparing for the test.
Physically, yes.
Mentally, no.
Her mind had been elsewhere.
---
When school closed that day, she returned home quietly.
She hoped nobody would ask about the results.
Unfortunately, that hope didn't last long.
During dinner, Mr. Adetiba casually asked how school was going.
"Fine, sir," Kemi replied.
"And your tests?"
Kemi hesitated.
Damilola immediately noticed.
"So how were they?"
Kemi pushed her food around her plate.
"They were okay."
The response alone was enough to attract attention.
Usually, Kemi was eager to discuss her academic performance.
This time, she wasn't.
Mr. Adetiba gently placed his spoon down.
"Kemi."
She looked up.
"What's wrong?"
The concern in his voice nearly brought tears to her eyes.
She quickly looked away.
"Nothing, Daddy."
But everyone at the table knew that wasn't true.
---
Later that night, Mrs. Funmilayo knocked softly on Kemi's bedroom door.
"Can I come in?"
Kemi nodded.
Her mother entered and sat beside her on the bed.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Then Mrs. Funmilayo reached for her daughter's hand.
"You miss her."
It wasn't a question.
It was a statement.
Kemi felt her eyes sting immediately.
She nodded.
Her mother squeezed her hand gently.
"It's okay to miss her."
A tear escaped.
Then another.
Soon, Kemi was crying again.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just quietly.
The way she often cried these days.
Mrs. Funmilayo remained beside her.
Listening.
Comforting.
Allowing her daughter to release some of the pain she had been carrying.
---
A few days later, another test was announced.
The news immediately filled the classroom with groans.
Normally, Kemi would have begun preparing immediately.
This time, she struggled to find motivation.
Everything felt exhausting.
Everything felt heavy.
One afternoon, while staring blankly at her notes, she noticed something sticking out from one of her textbooks.
Curious, she pulled it out.
It was a small piece of paper.
A note.
Her handwriting wasn't on it.
Derinsola's was.
The note was old.
Very old.
Probably from the previous term.
Kemi unfolded it carefully.
The words were simple.
A silly joke about one of their teachers.
Nothing special.
Nothing important.
Yet as she stared at the familiar handwriting, a small smile appeared on her face.
For the first time in weeks.
The smile didn't last long.
But it was there.
And somehow, that mattered.
Because for the first time since losing her best friend, Kemi realized something.
The memories would always hurt.
But they could also comfort her.
And perhaps that was how healing began.
Not by forgetting.
But by remembering without breaking apart every single time.
- Writer
